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Graduation: T Minus One Hour
Graduation.
The word feels strange. You never thought you’d make it here.
Your own parents are actually here, too, having arrived home just yesterday from Kenya. It means a lot to have them here, even if you didn’t realize it until they showed up at the front door and surprised you. You had insisted on the phone that they didn’t need to come, it was just your high school graduation, and with any luck, they could come see you when you graduated college. And you were stupidly pleased when they insisted they couldn’t miss it. Even then, you secretly expected that something would happen and they’d miss it after all, so you didn’t expect them. But they flew for a day and a half and crossed approximately seventeen time zones just to knock on the door at eleven o’clock in the morning.
Then they were promptly horrified by the mess you and Ted had left in the kitchen while cooking breakfast that morning…and dinner the night before…and lunch before that.
Oh, well. Can’t win ‘em all.
But it doesn’t even matter that they ordered you to clean up the entire kitchen, because they’re here. They made it.
Even Ted is here, dressed in his cleanest jeans and a polo shirt. He thumped you on the back when you came downstairs this morning and said, “Good job, little brother.” You figure that’s the most praise you’ll get from him, but even that’s enough.
After thirteen minutes of your mother squealing about how proud of you she is, and after seven hundred and thirty-one clicks of her camera, you’re here at Vista, gathered with your fellow graduates. The girls are all in white. Your own robe is a nice royal blue satin, and you even managed to iron out the creases. You look pretty good. The air is festive, and for a brief moment you wonder if you’ll miss this.
And yet, instead of mingling, you’re perched on the bench beneath the bougainvillea, soaking in the blossoms one last time. You’ve always liked this tree.
Three feet away, there’s Alex, being fussed over by his mother. She’s smoothing his already immaculate robe and adjusting his already straight cap.
It’s even more incredible that he’s here. You spent many sleepless nights worrying over him while he was in Chicago. But he returned with a suitcase of Frango mints for you, and with life in his eyes and actual emotion in his voice. He wasn’t the Alex you once knew. That Alex is gone, weighed down and changed and hardened by the depression that ate away at him. But there’s familiarity in this new Alex, and when he came home, you fall back into your friendship like no time had passed at all.
Your heart swells as you take it all in. Even though you wouldn’t exactly call yourself a fanatic of high school—you certainly hope you didn’t peak in the last four years—there’s something to this feeling.
Alex catches your eye and snorts. “You’re graduating,” he calls. “You don’t have to write in that thing anymore.”
“I’ll be buried with this notebook,” you call back, and he grins.
Oh, Mr. Dean is calling for us to line up. More later.
Much Later
You did it, McCrae. You graduated. You’re officially an alum (alumnus?) of Vista Private School.
The ceremony itself was, admittedly, dull. Speeches, speeches, and more speeches about how we’re growing up and starting our adult lives, with the occasional anecdote thrown in about how we should never forget these days. Blah blah blah.
It’s all fairly anticlimactic, though you will admit to getting a sick sense of satisfaction when Marco Bardwell trips on his way across the stage.
Most of the Cro Mags got bored of tormenting you by Christmas of junior year, but he never let up. You refuse to feel bad about laughing.
Afterward, your class is lingering, taking photo after photo. Your mom takes nine hundred and eight more photos of you, and of you with Ted, and of the four of you, and of you and Alex, and Dawn, and Sunny, and Maggie, and Amalia. They all showed up to cheer you on, and it was only a little embarrassing when Sunny whooped, “Yeah, Ducky!” when they called your name. Even Jay stops by, and he suggests you three recreate the photo from you kindergarten graduation, the one of you hanging upside down on the monkey bars in your caps and gowns.
And you don’t even remember that photo—you’re shocked he does—but Alex does, so the three of you make your way to the elementary school playground and try to recreate the photo from memory. Jay ends up falling on his face in the process, and you and Alex are laughing so hard you can’t breathe.
You’re not sure exactly how the photo turns out, but you know you’re smiling so hard your face hurts.
The real shocker, though, is when Jay says he’s having a graduation party tonight, and he hopes you guys will come.
You can’t remember the last time you were at Jay’s house. You think it was that awful party sophomore year, the one where you dragged Alex out of the bathtub when he was drunk out of his mind. That seems like a lifetime ago. That Alex was so different to the one challenging Jay to a chin-up contest on the bars and laughing about some inside joke you guys made in sixth grade.
It all feels very…good.
And now, here you are, in your room at home, gown hanging on the closet door, cap perched on the globe on your desk. In two hours, you’ll be at Jay’s house. You’re not sure what to expect, but you have a suspicion it’ll be fun.
In Which Ducky Has a Realization Eighteen Years in the Making
Jay’s party is long over, and you’re back home, newly showered and tucked under the freshly washed sheets your mom put on the bed for you.
You looked in the mirror after your shower earlier, wondering if you looked different after this epiphany.
(‘Epiphany’ sounds so dramatic, but it was a big moment, so you refuse to pick another word.)
Anyway, you looked pretty much the same, but if you look closely, there’s something in your eyes, the knowledge you didn’t have before.
You suspect that even if you don’t dive into specifics, Ducky of the Future will know exactly what you mean anyway. But you’re going to write it down for posterity’s sake.
Five Hours Ago
You and Alex arrive at Jay’s house fifteen minutes after the start time. “Fashionably late,” Alex says, shooting you a grin as he rockets out of the passenger seat, and you marvel again, as you often do, how much you’ve missed this normalcy.
Inside, the place is packed. Jay must’ve invited half of your class. But, you notice, his parents are there this time, so surely it can’t get nearly as out of control as it did back then.
You hope.
It doesn’t. Instead, you mingle. For the first time in your high school career, you don’t feel out of place with your classmates. They laugh with you, not at you, and you talk, and you even dance with a few of the girls.
And it’s fun.
Okay, so maybe it would’ve been nice if you could’ve had this two years ago, but why linger in the past? For once, you don’t feel like the outcast loner. You feel…accepted. Even the Cro Mags are being friendly, and you’re actually laughing as Sal Mignona challenges you to an arm-wrestling match.
You lose, but it’s a lot closer than you thought it’d be, and that’s something to write home about, especially when he shakes your hand and says “Good match” after.
But the biggest thing of all happens later. You need some fresh air, so you wander outside to the backyard and stand on the porch. It’s dark out, and you try to find a few constellations, but LA’s light pollution leaves a lot to be desired. You’re not even sure which star is the North Star. (You’re not even sure which way’s north.)
And then you hear the back door squeak open again, and you feel a body occupy the space beside you. You turn and find Bud McNally, one of Jay’s friends. The one you discovered was actually not as Cro Mag as he seemed.
“Hey,” he says, smiling at you. “Hiding out?”
For once, you think fast. “I must not be doing a very good job if you found me.”
And it’s not that funny, but he laughs anyway, and you notice the way one of his front teeth is slightly chipped. You find it oddly charming. Then you have to look away when you notice yourself noticing.
“At least it’s a dry party. Half of those people would be passed out in the yard by now otherwise,” he says.
“I think your math is a bit off,” you reply. “It would be at least five-eighths.”
His smile widens. You never noticed before, but Bud has hazel eyes. They’re nice. “I never was good at math.” He sips the drink in his hand. “Can you believe it’s all over?”
“I feel like we just started high school yesterday. It was an…interesting four years.” If by interesting, you mean mostly heinous, then sure, Ducky.
“If you could have a do-over for the last four years, would you change anything?”
You think for a moment before saying, “I wish I had made more of an effort to get to know some of our other classmates. Especially after Alex left. It got kind of lonely sometimes.”
He nods, his demeanor shifting a little. In the not-quite-darkness, he looks almost uncomfortable. “Um…I’m sorry again about my friends. You know, for how we treated you and everything.”
And you’re surprised, because ever since meeting, Bud’s always been nothing but nice to you. Nothing like the other Cro Mags. “It’s okay,” you say, because it is. You’ve graduated. You’re a real adult now, according to Mr. Dean, and it seems pointless to hold onto it anymore. It wasn’t okay at the time, but you’ve survived. Maybe even become a better Ducky for it. “I always liked you, anyway. You weren’t anything like them.”
“I should’ve made more of an effort to stop them, though.”
Now you’re slightly uncomfortable, because, more than anything, you don’t want this to turn into some kind of guilt fest. You try to joke it away. “Well, if they ever invent time travel, I’ll just be sure to put it on your tab.”
You’re not sure what that feeling is in your chest when he smiles again, and you’re not sure if you like it. But the breeze shifts and you notice Bud smells good.
Like, really good.
Sunny always smells nice in her strawberry-kiwi body spray, but whatever Bud is wearing, it’s almost intoxicating.
Which is just a super weird thought, Ducky.
He takes another sip, then sets the cup on the porch rail. “There are a lot of things I’d change,” he confesses. “But most of all, I wish I’d done this sooner.”
And before you can process what a weird, incomplete statement that is, he’s placing a hand on your face and pressing his lips to yours.
You’re pretty sure the world stops turning. Your brain goes through a full reboot cycle. When you come to, you find yourself kissing him back. You’re not quite sure what to do—you never kissed anyone after that time Sunny kissed you—but you go on instinct, and he seems to like whatever you’re doing.
It’s only about ten seconds or so, but it feels like three years before he pulls away, leaving you feeling…you don’t know, exactly. Like you’ve just been hard at work on a puzzle, and you finally laid the very last piece into place.
Like you’ve just found the answer you’ve been searching tirelessly for.
It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t fall in love with Sunny two years ago. It wasn’t hers, either.
It just wasn’t who you were.
Are.
All those years of wondering why you were so weird about girls, why you just didn’t have any interest in them, why Sunny kissing you back then felt so wrong. This is the reason.
You should’ve guessed a lot sooner, honestly. The Cro Mags didn’t call you names for years for nothing. Maybe you refused to see it because you were scared. And yeah, it’s a little scary. But this feeling, this…thing…it feels right.
And you feel like maybe you aren’t weird, or broken, or unlovable.
You’re not sure what to say. Bud is looking at you apprehensively, like you might hit him. He begins to babble out an apology.
“God, sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I was just—”
You’re not sure come what comes over you. You didn’t even know you were going to do it, but you step forward and kiss him again, and you feel him relax. He breaks away, and you’re disappointed until he takes your hand and pulls you off the porch, abandoning his cup on the rail, and around the corner of Jay’s house, where you two will be hidden by the shadows and the tall hedges that you always thought were a tad gaudy, but now you’re grateful for them.
He presses you up against the side of the house and kisses you, over and over, until you’re both breathless and smiling at each other.
Sure, high school might be done, but maybe it’s never too late for a do-over.